


satisfaction

by chimeramanticore



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimeramanticore/pseuds/chimeramanticore
Summary: Jacket's reached the end of his story. He has one last conversation with something barely considered to be a friend.
Kudos: 9





	satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> major spoilers for hlm 1 and 2 if you've somehow made it to 2021 and not been spoiled on these games  
> also tw for the implication of death, war, nuclear bombs, and general violence
> 
> fOR THE RECORD, i personally headcanon jacket to be almost if not entirely nonverbal- his "speaking" in this fic is meant to be in more of a metaphorical way.
> 
> I hope u enjoy it!

Jacket sits in his cell alone. As if that’s anything new. He’s been alone in here for… long enough. It’s hard to tell time when you’re in a situation like this. All he has to keep himself from going totally insane is his little green ball. Rubber, squishy enough if you try, more than bouncy enough. He’s spent the last few mind-numbing measurements of time bouncing it up and down on the floor of his cell.

“They let you keep that in here?” A voice says. Jacket looks up. Across the cell, a familiar face- or rather, a mask.

“I don’t hurt people,” Jacket replies plainly. “I’m allowed at least this much.”

“Those days must be behind you,” Richard says. “Last I can remember, you hurt plenty of people.”

Jacket says nothing at first. Then, “...Is it time?” Richard nods. “I’ve had a bad feeling… At least now I know.”

“You’ve made it to the end. How does it feel?” Jacket shrugs. “Surely you’ve got a better answer than that. Are you happy with yourself?”

“I just did what you told me,” Jacket says. “You said I couldn’t do anything else, that nothing else would matter.”

Richard is quiet.

“That’s why I stopped fighting,” Jacket continues. “If nothing else would mean anything, then why waste my energy?”

“But you did,” Richard tells him. “You woke up and right after, decided to have your fun playing revenge.”

“I was angry.”

“I know. What good did it do you?”

Jacket says nothing.

“Do you feel satisfied?” Richard presses. “Did it make you feel accomplished? Did you avenge her?”

“Does it matter?” Jacket says sharply.

“Of course it didn’t matter. What did I tell you?”

Jacket switches from bouncing the ball on the floor to squeezing it in his hand.

Outside, very faintly, a sound is heard. Alarms.

“Do you hear that?” Richard asks. Jacket nods.

“How long will it be?” He asks him.

“Couldn’t say.”

Jacket squeezes his ball a little tighter.

“...You do know this is all your fault, right?”

“What?”

“All of this happening. You’ve made waves on the outside.”

Jacket says nothing, dumbfounded. Richard smiles.

“Big waves,” he continues. “There were people protesting in your favor. There was a movie made about you. There’s people killing in your name. Big, big waves.”

“And I caused… this? A bomb?”

“Not directly,” Richard explains. “You weren’t the one who killed the president.”

“The president is dead?”

“The Russian one, too. But what you did, all that pointless fighting, made a wave big enough to lead to this.”

Jacket says nothing.

“The world is about to change. This, here, is about to end. So many people are about to die. Does it feel good? Was it worth it?”

_ “Fuck you, _ ” Jacket snaps. “Fuck you.”

“Why so angry?” Richard says. “You knew this was coming from the start, didn’t you? You’ve made waves since before you were even arrested. Things don’t start just because you decided to give up. Just because  _ you _ decided to lay down and die.”

_ “Shut up.”  _

“Or what?”

“I-” Jacket finally realizes how tightly he’s gripping the ball. “If I could lay hands on you-”

“You’d what? Would you strangle me? Would you gouge my eyes out? Would you beat me to death with your hands alone? Will that bring you the satisfaction you’re looking for? Will that make you feel just a little bit better about what you’ve done?”

Jacket doesn’t think. He throws the ball at the wall, as hard as he can. It misses Richard by a mile, ricocheting off the wall and bouncing a few times before coming to a rest- rolling gently to a stop by Jacket’s feet.

“...Did that help?” Richard asks after a moment of silence. Jacket stares at the ball, either unaware of how he’s trembling or just trying to ignore it.

“I know what you are,” Jacket says, his voice low. “And I know the answer to your question now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not happy. I’m… not happy. I’m anything but.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“There’s nothing to be done now, is there?” Richard laughs.

“Of course not. By now, there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Finally, Jacket picks up the ball, pocketing it.

“What happens,” he says, “after this?”

“After you die? Not much,” Richard replies. “After the country is destroyed?” He thinks for a moment. “I couldn’t say. But I can tell you it’s bound to be  _ very _ interesting.”

Jacket smiles. “And you’re not going to get the satisfaction of seeing it.”

Richard doesn’t reply with anything more than a knowing smile.

“You’re sick,” Jacket says, still smiling.

“And you’re twisted,” Richard replies. There’s a rumbling felt from outside the cell, growing closer. “Are you ready?” Jacket sighs, staring back down at the ground. He should be terrified- in a way, he is. But even then, there’s an overwhelming calmness above the anxiety and fear.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” he says.

Richard never replies.


End file.
